A Rose in Whitechapel
by Kiru Banzai
Summary: Anthy takes Utena on a guided tour of the rabbit hole. Implied everything. *Victoriana Warning!*
1. A Meeting

The closing of the hour had brought with it a surcease of the pleasure Utena found in embroidery, and she lay dozing across the rose pattern of the divan when the maid came upon her. A young girl of Hindu extraction, she went quietly about her business until her mistress yawned, stretched fitfully, and opened wide blue eyes on the sun-drenched room. The maid startled and moved to flee when Utena spoke.   
"There's no need to be afraid, my dear," said she, outstretched palm a gesture of warmth and good faith. "Sit here with me."  
The young girl obliged, smoothing her dress and folding her hands like a child at lessons. Utena took the role of the schoolmarm.  
"And what is your name?"  
"Anthy, miss."  
"What a lovely name! So..." She made a pretty gesture with her hands, causing the lace of her sleeves to dance. "Foreign!"  
"Yes, miss."  
"Well, Anthy, I am tired of embroidery, as I'm sure you are tired of scrubbing. Why don't we think of something to entertain ourselves for a while?"  
The young maid looked skeptical. "Madam said I mustn't speak to you, and that I must tend to my work."  
"But they won't be home for simply hours! Surely there's something we could do."  
"Well..." The dark-haired girl put a finger to her lips. "There is one thing we do where I come from that you might enjoy. I've heard it called the game of flats."  
"Flats?" The younger girl's nose wrinkled. "How odd. Is it anything like bridge?"  
Anthy smiled. "Let me show you."   
After they had played it, Utena sat fanning herself on the divan. She suddenly found the room remarkably hot. "My," she said, "India must certainly be a fascinating country."  
The darker girl giggled. "Oh, that's not from India. It's from where I come from."  
"And where is that?"  
"Whitechapel."  
Merely the name caused Utena to clap her hands over her mouth. "Why, that...that *place*? That den of iniquity? You *live* there?"  
"It's not as bad as all that." Anthy took her mistress's hands. "I could show you, if you'd like."  
Utena looked deep into her maid's eyes. She found a certain trust there, like a promise that she would come to no harm. And indeed, she reflected, confronting evil and coming out on top could only strengthen her moral character, an attribute which her mother had always commented was lacking. "Yes, I believe I shall go with you, Anthy. But of course only to educate you out of your state of sin."  
"Wonderful!" Anthy's eyes shone. "Hmm...you'll need a different set of clothes, though."  
"Well, I'm sure we can find something," said Utena. "Come, you shall help me change." 


	2. An Encounter

Three quarters of an hour later, Utena found herself following Anthy along Aldgate in what she considered an extremely ill-fitting dress.   
"Anthy," she said, "I'm not sure about this."  
"It's perfectly suitable for the occasion," said Anthy,   
"But when I walk, people can see my..." she hesitated at the forbidden word. "...ankles."  
Anthy's only response to this was a decidedly ungenteel laugh, and Utena hurried along behind her. She had a queer feeling, as though she were falling into something she was unprepared for.   
They slipped down a knife-narrow alley and into a disreputable-looking tavern. Inside, the air was foul, not only with the smoke and breath of its denizens, but with all manner of curses and blasphemies, the like of which Utena had never heard. Her head swam and her eyes watered. Anthy seemed unaffected. She walked up to the bar and ordered two gins.   
"Anthy, I thought we were going to see your home."   
Anthy pulled, from a most unlikely place, a pocket watch on a slender gold chain. "We've plenty of time yet."  
"Is that my father's pocket watch?"  
Anthy gave her a look of mute innocence. "Well, you don't want us to be late, do you?" She looked about her and made a face. "Oh lord. It's Saionji. --don't look! Just ignore him and he'll go away."  
A drunken young man in disheveled clothing and a dusty, caved-in bowler lurched towards them. He put one reeking arm around Utena's maidservant, grinning at her with an incomplete smile. "Come 'ead, darling. 'Ave a drink wiv me."   
She pushed him away. "Gerroff."  
He stumbled, then righted himself and examined the heiress herself. "And oo's yer friend, then?" He leered. "Not much to look at, but I'm sure she's got it where it counts, eh? 'Ow'd yeh like teh see somethin' what grows when yeh eat it?"  
"Sir! Whatever you are suggesting, let me be the first to say it is improper and ungentlemanly for a...a *person* of low class such as yourself to make such a proposition to a lady! Furthermore, you smell strongly of drink, and your apparel is in a state of disarray the likes of which I have never seen. You should make a poor husband to any girl so unfortunate as to make your acquaintance, and I bid good day to you, sir."  
He cocked his head, confused. "Wot's she sayin'?"  
Anthy rolled her eyes and finished off the second gin. "She called you a bloody git and told you to go to hell."  
Blood blossomed in his cheeks. "Oh, too good for the likes a' me, eh? Well, sod off, yeh pair of doxies!"  
Before her friend could deliver another cutting remark, Anthy grabbed her slim wrist and propelled them both through the door and into the street. "He's an angry drunk," she explained, at her mistress's protestations.  
"Well," said Utena, "I certainly hope the next place we visit won't be peopled by men of such low character."  
"Oh, don't worry," Anthy replied. "I'm sure you'll find them of the highest character there is."  
The two girls tripped off down the street, deeper into darkest Whitechapel. 


End file.
